


that one day in the nether

by serenamidnightt



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Sleepy Bois Inc Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Sleepy Bois Inc-centric, platonic, sbi, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 01:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenamidnightt/pseuds/serenamidnightt
Summary: He needs another beacon and he's out of Wither skulls, so of course, he's off to the Nether to find a fortress.Only this time, Phil finds himself a very unexpected companion.
Relationships: Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 79





	that one day in the nether

**Author's Note:**

> heyy! this is my first time posting something ao3 so i'm not very experienced yet >_> hope i'm doing this right!  
> i'm serenamidnight and you can call me serena or midnight :] i use any pronouns but she/her or she/they is preferred! also i love reading feedback so please feel free to drop a comment if you read this fic :D  
> this was based off an idea i saw on twitter about half-piglin techno following phil home because he thought his hair was gold! sadly i can't remember whose tweet it was and i can't find it in my saved D: if anyone who reads this happens to have it please do tell me!  
> anyways enjoy akjshdgs

Phil squints at the slightly crinkled sheet of parchment, studying the lines of ink. His gaze traces the meticulously drawn strokes, occasionally flicking to where his screen hovers to the left of his head to check his coordinates.

The fortress he’s in search of - one that’s smack dab in the middle of a soul sand valley - is about three hundred and fifty blocks away.

He rolls up the map, the vellum disappearing into his inventory as he prepares to take a step forward...and something tugs at his sleeve. Or rather, someone. He’s pretty sure the vines around him aren’t sentient.

Curious, Phil glances down, and finds himself looking into a pair of rose-crimson eyes flecked with gold.

He very nearly jumps and reaches for the hilt of his blade, but stops himself.

The eyes belong to a young boy who looks maybe twelve. A simple leather jerkin, linen tunic and hoglin-hide breeches hang off his slightly skinny, yet lithe frame. His downward-pointing sharp ears - Phil sees small gold piercings glint - are half obscured by a shoulder-length curtain of faded rose hair, pulled back in a messy ponytail. Small, sharp canines poke out, visible against his upper lip, reminiscent of the prominent tusks adult piglins had. A few pieces of battered gold armour are fastened by well-worn leather straps. A thin, pale scar slashes diagonally over the bridge of his nose, and the odd bit of bandaging can be seen here and there.

“Ah.” Phil shakes his head a little, the initial shock receding. He remembers seeing a small shape seem to dart around following him earlier; he guesses this was the little shadow that had been following him. “Hi there.”

The boy tugs at the sleeve of his robes again. Phil notices that his stare isn’t really meeting his eyes; instead those fiery eyes are looking a little to the left.

Curious, Phil follows his gaze, but only sees a loose lock of his hair sweeping the edge of his vision.

His brows knit.

“Oh, wait…” He reaches up with his free hand and removes his green-and-white striped bucket hat, letting his feathery blonde hair fall around his shoulders. “Is it my hair?”

The boy makes grabby hands at the golden wisps and Phil laughs, crouching down so that he’s almost at eye level with him. “It’s - it’s not gold, mate, it’s just blonde.” He understands the possible confusion, though - the glow of the lava in the Nether always renders the sandy colour of his hair a warm honey gold. But this is definitely the first time one of the gold-loving inhabitants of the fiery landscape has mistaken his blonde waves for the priceless metal they value so much.

“Well, uh…” Phil stands up, gently extricating the hem of his sleeve from the boy’s grip. “Do you have a clan to go back to? Or a tribe?”

He’s not too sure if the other understands him. Thankfully, that dilemma is quickly solved when the boy shakes his head, eyes still fixed on the blonde locks.

“Oh. Okay.” He’s met clanless before - they’re usually loners or small groups, either banished or unclaimed. Though, judging by the other’s more human features, Phil guesses he isn’t a full-blooded piglin; likely a half-blood, which is probably why he’s alone, since piglin tribes didn’t have much liking for halflings. He wonders how long the boy has had to survive on his own. “You can follow me if you want,” he offers. “Be careful, though. I’m trying to get to a fortress for wither skulls.”

The boy doesn’t offer any reply, but as Phil turns and heads up the rocky terrain, he sees the small figure trail after him, scrambling nimbly up the precipice.

\-----

Finally, a dark, looming shape peers through the fog. Phil can just barely make out the flaming orange glow of blazes hovering above the fortress’s open bridges.

He turns to his companion. “I’m going up there - you can stay down here if you want.”

The boy shakes his head and pulls out a stack of netherrack. Teal light from the flickering flames peppering the valley of cold, dry sand washes across their faces, making them look deathly pale, almost ghostly.

“Okay, then.” Phil retrieves his nearest stack of material - dirt blocks - and begins building up the side of one of the towering brick pillars. The half-piglin follows suit, and both of them carefully stack upwards, careful not to get slammed off by a stray fireball from a blaze or the wrath of a ghast.

Phil clambers over the dilapidated guardrail and draws his sword, shield springing to life on his left arm, and slashes at a wither skeleton that had sprung at him. Its head drops to the ground, neatly decapitated, and crumbles along with the rest of its body.

“God damn it, I was hoping I’d get one,” he mutters. “Guess I can’t expect too much right off the bat.”

A ball of fire speeds past, inches away from one of his wings, and Phil deflects the other two with his blade before switching to his bow and firing an arrow at the offending blaze, disintegrating it.

The spree of combat continues for a while. His sword hacks through monsters until the ground at his feet is dusted with ash. Several times, he blocks attacks right before they hit his young associate. He’s got to give the kid credit, though - light and agile, but also quite a tank, he dodges swiftly before sword swings, arrows or fireballs find him as a target and deals his own back.

\-----

Phil stashes the twenty wither skulls he’s acquired - more than he’d anticipated, but he’s not complaining - and vaults over the guardrail onto the tower of dirt he’d used to scale the fortress earlier, waiting for the small figure to drop down beside him before digging downwards. Soon enough, they’re back on ground again, the unearthly pull of the dark sand clamping onto the soles of their feet, turning movement sluggish.

“That was impressive, kiddo,” Phil grins, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “You’re good, y’know?”

He sees the slightest nod from the boy, who’s fumbling for something in a leather pouch. Phil realises there’s a bloody slash across the side of his ribs, and a few smaller scrapes on his arms, legs and face.

“Oh.” He fishes a golden apple from his inventory and holds it out guiltily. “Sorry...you didn’t have to follow me up there. Here. This’ll help.”

The boy hesitates for a moment, then gives in and snatches the gilded apple from Phil’s hand, biting into it. Particles shimmer faintly around him, swiftly mending the sword slash and scrapes. By the time the apple’s core dissolves, the kid’s fully healed, and his face seems to glow brighter.

Phil sees a hint of wonder in the child’s eyes, and smiles. “Golden apples are some of the strongest healing items out there. Feel better?”

A nod. Less wary than all the gestures he’d made before, which Phil counts as progress.

“I’m going back home,” he says, adjusting his hat. “Still want to follow me? I’m not from around here.”

The boy doesn’t show any signs that he’s leaving, so Phil lets him tag along as he sets off back to his portal. They trudge along in relative silence, occasionally stopping to shoot an aggravated ghast or magma cube, and are almost to the portal when Phil asks tentatively, “Hey, uh...I never introduced myself, did I? I’m Philza - you can call me Phil, everyone does. What’s your name?"

The boy’s hands fiddle with his tunic; Phil stops walking and crouches down again, giving him a small nod of encouragement. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”

“Technoblade,” he mumbles, barely audible. His ears twitch. “Or just Techno.”

“Hi, Techno,” Phil says, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Nice to meet you.”

He holds out his hand. “Want to come to the Overworld with me?”

“Okay,” Techno says hesitantly, slipping his hand into Phil’s.

Together, they step into the swirling vortex of violet and lilac suspended in the middle of the obsidian frame, and vanish from the Nether in a storm of particles.

\-----

**_TEN YEARS LATER_ **

Techno yawns and shuts his book with a faint  _ thump _ , laying the thick volume, bound in well-worn garnet-coloured leather, down on the coffee table beside his circlet of gilded laurels and serpentine filigree. The stylised, faded gold lettering on the cover reads  _ The Art of War _ . He deposits his glasses on top of it and leans back on the cushions; his pink locks, coming loose from their braid, spill down the arm of the couch.

Over in an armchair by the cheerfully crackling fire in the hearth, wings draped relaxedly, Phil stretches out a crick in his neck, then settles back down. “How many times have you read that thing by now?”

“Probably well over two hundred,” Techno answers languidly, letting one arm trail down onto the dark oak floor covered in thick pelts. “Thank gods the others are asleep. I haven’t been able to get peace and quiet for a decent reading session in three weeks.”

Phil laughs. “I’ll admit, it’s nice to have a reprieve from the chaos once in a while.”

“You say that almost like you like having those three tear the house apart.”

“You love them anyway,” Phil chides. “Doesn’t matter how much you threaten Tommy, you’d never lay a hand on that kid.”

“Maybe because you’d murder me if I killed him,” Techno counters, but Phil knows him too well, and a small smirk finds its way onto his face. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Who knew when I followed you home that day I’d eventually end up with two siblings who are chaos incarnate and another one who comes over so often he might as well live here, huh?”

“Aw, don’t slap me with the nostalgia now.” Phil twirls a strand of his sandy hair around his index finger and studies it. “You deadass thought this shit was gold and followed me for god knows how long.”

Techno groans, but a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Give me a break - I was a dumb kid back then. Plus I’m only  _ half _ piglin. My senses were absolutely scuffed.”

Phil snorts; Techno half scowls, half smirks. “Still haven’t lost that liking for gold since then, have you?”

“In my defense, it looks good if you know how to implement it,” Techno says, plucking his circlet from the table and twirling it, letting the intricate gold leaves and swirls flash in the firelight, a stunning testament to his skill with the precious metal. “This thing took two weeks to make and it’s part of my whole brand.”

Phil lets out a low, appreciative whistle as Techno places the ornate wreath down again. “Point taken. Say-” he hesitates “-did you ever regret it? Leaving the Nether with me?”

“If I’m being completely honest right now, Phil? Not once, ever.” Techno sits up and locks eyes with Phil - one pair having shifted to a shade of smoky blue that complemented its amber-gold flecks, the other currently the cool icy blue of glaciers. “You were the one who gave me a home and a family. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world.”

He shoots a furtive glare at the stairs. “And I hope those fuckers aren’t eavesdropping, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” he adds, and Phil chuckles.

“True - you definitely wouldn’t.” He reluctantly picks himself up from the comfort of the armchair and makes his way over to the stairs, clapping Techno’s shoulder as he stops by the sofa. “I’m going up to bed. Are you gonna sleep down here?”

“Too lazy to move now,” Techno says, stifling another yawn as he bats playfully at the glossy feathers of Phil’s wings. “So yeah, I’m staying down here. Couch is mine tonight.”

Phil nods. “See you in the morning. Hope you don’t get woken up by Tommy jumping on you.”

Techno shudders. “If he does I swear I’m punting that child across the room.” He tosses a blanket that they kept folded over one arm of the couch - just in case anyone opted to spend the night downstairs - over himself and settles in. “Night, Phil.”

“Good night,” Phil says, heading upstairs. His soft footsteps slowly fade, and a door upstairs clicks shut.

_ Things have really done a one-eighty since ten years ago _ , Techno thinks sleepily as weariness washes over him and carries his consciousness away.

What he’d told Phil was true. He’d never regretted the decision. He’d gone from alone and fighting for survival around the clock to having the best friends and family the world could give, and all of it had begun when they met each other in the Nether, and when his scuffed-ass senses had confused Phil’s hair for gold. 

So in a way, that dumb incident had been the biggest blessing he could have received. And he was thankful for that.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!! there's a few more happy fics of mine in progress, mostly about the sbi (because i am an absolute sucker for the family dynamic and they never feed us), hopefully i'll finish them soon :D  
> twitter: serena_midnight


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